


The Fluff Collection

by JMount74



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen, fluffy feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29823798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JMount74/pseuds/JMount74
Summary: A collection of short fluffy pieces as prompted by Tumblr and requests. May have some mild angst but I guarantee no whump!
Kudos: 12





	1. Down Time

For cg29 who asked for fluffy fic with the prompt: Virgil making Scott some hot chocolate.

Virgil rolled his eyes as he entered the living area. Scott was, as usual, sat at the desk trying to complete reports. Judging from the figures scrolling across the display it was Tracy Industries today, but the slump in his brother’s shoulders and the bleary-eyed stare said his brother needed a break.

Not that he would willingly go for one. Virgil checked the time. They’d been back five hours since the last rescue, and Scott had immediately sat down to fill in the reports. He himself had headed for his studio and painted solidly until his stomach told him he needed sustenance, and he would bet that Scott hadn’t moved either.

Scott. He got so involved in everything he needed to do that he forgot the basics of self-care – but that was his big brother all over. So occasionally he needed a little brother to take care of him, not that Virgil would ever dare to word it like that. No, Scott needed delicate handling, and he knew exactly what to do from years of experience.

Heading straight into the kitchen he started with warming the milk. While that was happening Virgil rooted around the back of the second cabinet along, sure to find there a stash of Penny’s special cookies – sorry, biscuits – that she regularly sent to Gordon. Ah yes, and they were chocolate, perfect partners.

Beating the pure cocoa powder into the milk, thickening it slightly and liberally sweetening it, Virgil poured the hot chocolate into two mugs and topped it with the customary marshmallows and cream. Sprinkled over some cinnamon for artistic flair and carried them over to the table in the centre. 

If Scott wanted one he’d have to leave the desk, that was the plan. Virgil made himself comfortable and proceeded to take the noisiest slurp he could. He saw Scott look up, surprise on his face. Looked like big brother hadn’t even registered his arrival. Virgil glanced over, a question in his eyebrow.

Scott sighed. And stretched. When did he get so stiff? And his stomach decided it was time to remind him of its’ existence. Giving Virgil a sheepish grin, he gestured at the spare cup.

‘Is that one for me?’ he asked. ‘Depends,’ his annoying little brother answered. ‘Depends on what?’ Virgil took another loud draught and pointedly stared at Scott while he ate a cookie. ‘Depends on whether you’re gonna move your ass down here of whether I have to come up and get you.’

He let out a huff of laughter. ‘Ok Virg, I get the message. Quick break and I’ll get back to them.’ Scott paused whatever report he was on and joined Virgil on the couch, deliberately sitting almost on top of him. 

Virgil dipped his finger into his cup and gently placed a dab of cream on Scott’s nose, causing his brother to raise both eyebrows in surprise. A big grin spread across his face as Scott then frowned. But Virgil wasn’t quick enough to avoid the cream-covered marshmallow Scott shoved down his tee. Nor was Scott quick enough when Virgil tipped him off the couch.

Alan chose that moment to walk into what he later described to Gordon as an all-out pillow fight, drinks and cookies discarded and both brothers going hell for leather at each other. There were feathers everywhere. And shrieks.

John hovered above the desk, watching fondly as his two immediate brothers made complete fools of themselves, and loved every second of it.


	2. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon's feeling down, and nothing his brothers try seems to help. Until Alan throws a pair of fluffy socks at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Womble1 and the prompt: 'I waxed the floors. Grab your fluffy socks.'

Gordon had been miserable for ages. It didn’t sit well with the sunshine boy, but he didn’t seem able to break out of it, and the rest of his family, try as they might, couldn’t displace the gloom that had settled on him either.

Virgil started it. He did a classic Gordon and put pink dye in Scott’s shampoo. The shade was vibrant, the fallout only slightly more colourful, but it merely raised a small, brief smile.

Scott retaliated with another classic, one that showed Scott’s recklessness had hit a new high – he swapped Virgil’s sugar out for salt. That all-important first coffee was duly sprayed all over the kitchen and Scott was in hiding. It got no more than a chuckle.

(Scott thought that a chuckle was an improvement on a smile and deemed it worth the fallout. Until Grandma got hold of him)

John decided it was his turn, and in another classic prank switched out all of both Scott and Virgil’s passwords and playlists so that Gordon’s favourite Disney songs were all they had. He then proceeded to take every opportunity to call their phones, filling the house with strains of The Little Mermaid and Finding Nemo. This one was an almost laugh.

But it was Alan who managed the coup de grace.

Gordon was sitting in his room. He couldn’t be bothered to get up. Hadn’t been bothered to go grab breakfast. His room was its customary mess exacerbated by the celery crunch bar wrappers currently decorating it.

The house had been unusually quiet, which would normally have piqued Gordon’s interests – 5 brothers, even if one was in space, never equated to quiet. But he couldn’t find it within himself to get off the bed, even if this lethargy was annoying, it was also strength-sapping.

He dozed on and off. Until he was very rudely awoken by a pair of socks thrown in his face. Sitting up, indignantly squawking, he saw Alan at the door, an odd look on his face. ‘Put them on and come on,’ he commanded, and then he turned and left.

Gordon stared after him. His immediate reaction was to ignore his baby brother, but there – _there_ – was the stirring that was his big brother instinct (and didn’t he sometime hate that he had one) and that face Allie had on was wrong.

So he put on what seemed a pair of ridiculously fluffy socks in neon pink and yellow and hauled his carcass out of bed, out of his room and into the living area. Only, once he set foot into the area said foot slid away from him and he ended up on his ass.

What the hell?

He didn’t have time to contemplate it though, because as he sat their thinking it, Scott and Virgil sailed – yes, sailed was exactly the right word – past him, clearly dancing a waltz but in bright neon socks sliding across the floor. Both brothers had a look of intense concentration on their faces, and they ignored him completely. He sat there and watched them complete the circuit of the room.

They carried on, but it was now John who caught Gordon’s attention. He was skating. For all intents and purposes John could have been on an ice rink, the way he skated about the room, avoiding the waltzing couple as he went.

Suddenly Alan was standing in front of him, holding his hand out to help his brother off the floor. ‘I waxed the floor. Got your fluffy socks on I see. May I have this dance?’ Bemused, Gordon allowed Alan to haul him to his feet, and before he could say anything, Alan led him into a tango.

Everything was going well until Kayo appeared, nose deep in reports. Even her boots were no match for the excessively well waxed floor, and suddenly Scott was waltzing with Kayo while Virgil was now waltzing with John. Until they met the two tangoing youngest.

They ended up in an ungainly heap on the floor. But the best sound of all, the absolute gold, was that Gordon, at the bottom of the pile, was laughing his head off.

By the time they had managed to stand up on the slippery floor they were all laughing, and both Brains and Grandma, safe in the kitchen area, watched fondly as they all tried to get themselves under control.


	3. The Coldness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is one particular reason Scott feels cold tonight...and Alan does too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Rachenfielden-xo and her prompt: Alan snuggling up to Scott because it’s freezing cold.

Scott’s first thought on waking up was that he was cold. And uncomfortable. And wet. But mostly, he was cold. He squeezed his eyes and scrunched his nose. 

Something was not right.

He almost jumped out of his skin when there was movement in his arms – and it was not him. Scott tried hard to open his eyes, he really did, but for some reason they were not responding, and he was suddenly acutely aware that he was tired.

The wiggling hit a sensitive spot and he gasped. This time his eyes opened. He couldn’t see much because there was something in the way, but there was the most eerie blue light surrounding him. It was almost serene.

Until he tried to move.

He couldn’t move. The blue light had him trapped and he sucked in a cold, _cold_ breath. Control your breathing, Tracy, the voice of his coach said in his head, otherwise you will hyperventilate. He focused on in. Out. In. Out. The wiggling stopped.

Scott managed to look down, and actually, now he tried, there was room to move his head and shoulders, it was just the rest of him that was trapped. His arms were pinned. But they held something so precious to him that he subconsciously hugged tighter. The wriggling returned.

Alan. He was hugging his two-year-old brother. And judging from the wriggling his brother was relatively alright. Now he just needed to piece together what happened. But his brain was a foggy mess of snow and screaming and…

_‘MOM!’_

The scream tore from his lips before he had time to think straight, and he felt Alan jump slightly as he yelled into the toddlers ears. Alan began to cry, asking for Mom, and Scott tried the best he could with the limited movement he had to comfort the child.

It was cold.

He could feel himself getting drowsy, and somewhere in the back of his thirteen-year-old brain there was a nagging that sleep was not good in this situation. But Alan was already still in his arms, and he just wanted to close his eyes for five minutes.

_Five minutes, Mom, please. Just five more minutes…_

Scott startled awake.

He hadn’t had that particular nightmare for years. Certainly not since they had moved to the island and cold had not been much of a problem anymore. Still, even at this time in the evening, in the warmth of a tropical summer night, Scott shivered.

There was no way he was getting any sleep now.

He rummaged around his drawers for a seldom-used sweater and snagged his seldom-used Yale hoodie. Shrugging it on as he made his way to the kitchen, he almost knocked Alan over, instinct saving both of them at the last second.

Alan was also dressed in a hoodie – but with the word Harvard emblazoned on it, it was clear he’d snagged it from John. Scott slung his arm over Alan’s shoulder, and he led his youngest brother into the kitchen.

Nothing was said as Scott prepared two hot chocolates and snagged a bag of marshmallows, and the two repaired to the couch in the lounge. He placed his goods down on the table as Alan grabbed the spare blanket kept for the times Scott fell asleep at the desk.

They sat down together, snuggling under the blanket and sipping their hot drinks. Neither wanted to say anything, but they were both acutely aware of what had happened today. It wasn’t really that cold, but inside both were feeling freezing. Memories for Scott, ghosts of memories for Alan.

Avalanche.

They may not have to rescue people so dramatically every time, but this one was cut very close to memories. Alan, suggesting he be buried in the avalanche with Brendon Berringer whilst in the Sherpa pod, had stirred up a lot of memories for Scott, and he was totally unsure how he had managed to leave his baby brother to be potentially buried again without him there to protect him as he had that first time.

Scott shivered again at the thought, and Alan unconsciously snuggled deeper.

Neither noticed an hour later when a very sleepy Virgil joined them, having had his own nightmare about missing the pod and the two teens being swept away. He sat the other side of Alan and was completely unaware when Grandma pulled the blanket over him too. 

Three hours later and Gordon stumbled upon the three of them, all cosy on the couch and fast asleep with John looking on. No-one even thought about taking photos for blackmail material.

That rescue had hit closer to home for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference made to episode Avalanche, owned by ITV.


	4. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil's good with caring, especially after an injury. Shame Scott is often the subject...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the fluff prompt generator: Virgil having to help Scott undress after an injury.

This always sucked.

Always. It was something he would never get used to, no matter how often it happened, and unfortunately, it tended to happen more frequently than he would like.

One of the few prices he paid being the eldest brother.

He grumbled from the stretcher as the sounds of One flying off home without him echoed around the infirmary on Two. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t be flying his baby for quite a while, judging from these injuries, nor did it really matter that Alan was more than competent to pilot her (and, no, he would _never_ tell Alan that). 

No, what mattered was that she was _his_ and he wasn’t flying her.

John’s hologram broke out into a huge smile, one that Scott couldn’t fail to notice from where he reclined. He frowned at his absent brother, and if anything that grin got wider. ‘Careful, brother dear,’ Scott drawled, ‘or I may send baby brother up to relieve _you_.’

That wiped the grin of John’s face. Temporarily. ‘It’s nice to know that having a building collapse on you hasn’t broken your sense of humour at least, big brother,’ John retorted, grin reappearing.

Scott took that for what it was. Relief. Relief that five brothers hadn’t suddenly become four. Relief that the injuries sustained, while multiple, were limited to broken bones and not anything more life-threatening.

He also appreciated that John was trying to keep him occupied until Virgil was able to get back. They still had a rescue to finish off, even if it was winding up, and the pain relief, while strong, wasn’t actually enough.

Thank god he had an extremely high pain tolerance. He only wished his metabolism didn’t match it, because then the pain relief would last longer. He sighed.

Virgil bustled in, all business and orders and instructions for Gordon to be doing this, that and the other (none of which involved flying his brother’s bird, Scott noticed bitterly). Gordon scurried away, knowing that the next few minutes were time for Scott and Virgil alone, no little brothers allowed.

Scott relaxed back onto the stretcher, knowing what was coming next. John flipped him a salute which was suitably sloppy for a non-ranking officer from NASA, and he grinned back in reply, watching as John disappeared and was replaced by a larger-than-life Virgil.

Virgil was already deep in medic-mode; and watching his middle brother as he set up the scanner and various implements he might need, Scott marvelled at the skill and concentration that just exuded off him. There really was only one other person Scott trusted with medical matters, and Grandma had taught Virgil well.

As if sensing that Scott was watching him, Virgil looked up and grinned, almost sheepishly, as if being caught in medic-mode was a bad thing. Scott gave an equally sheepish grin back, a little embarrassed because he knew what was coming next.

‘You’ve outdone yourself this time, Scott,’ Virgil started, keeping one eye on the scanner while talking. ‘Starting from the top, then. Broken left shoulder, multiple fractures to the left humerus, ulna and radius. Three cracked and two broken ribs. Multiple fractures to both legs. Multiple contusions, possible some might turn into haematomas.’ Virgil sighed. ‘At least your jet pack meant that your spine wasn’t injured, although you’re going to sport some impressive bruising.’ He sent the scans through to the island.

‘Why don’t you just give it to me straight, Doc, rather than bedazzling me with all that medical mumbo jumbo,’ his brother replied, a twinkle in his eye regardless of pain he was in.

‘Straight, Scott?’ He grinned back, then put on his poker face. ‘Straight. Right. Well, _sir_ , I have reason to believe that sir will not be flying anywhere for at least three months, maybe more, depending on how well sir listens to the advice of his medical team and does as he is told. Based on past experience, I believe that it is highly unlikely that sir will listen, and that sir will definitely prolong his medical leave by at least two weeks, depending on how reckless sir chooses to be.’

Scott frowned. At least three months! While not actually the longest he’d been out of action, the timeframe was worrying. With the new team the Hood was using, the so-called (and aptly named) Chaos Crew running about, he couldn’t afford to be out of action that long.

‘Three months, Virg? Three months! I can’t be out of action that long! Is there no way to speed this up?’ he asked. Virgil smiled sympathetically, shaking his head. ‘You’ve got some major injuries there, Scott. You have no idea just how lucky you were.’ He turned his back on his brother as he busied himself grabbing something off the tray of implements.

‘I – I thought for sure you would be dead this time. That building was _flat_ , Scott, flat like a pancake. There was no way you should have survived that.’

Scott wanted to reach out, to comfort Virgil, but he couldn’t, and his brother knew that, turning back to Scott and placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder and giving a light squeeze. He then held up the instrument of Scott’s torture in the other hand.

‘Time to get you out of that suit so that I can start patching you up.’ Scott groaned. How many suits would that make? At least Brains wouldn’t complain that this one was salvageable. He sighed heavily.

‘Ok, Doc. I’m ready.’

Virgil took the special scissors and cut away Scott’s baldrick first, setting it aside as it needed different treatment than the suit did. He began at the collar, cutting firstly down Scott’s uninjured side, down the neck, along the arm, down his side and pausing there.

He moved to Scott’s left side, and with deliberate care, he run the scissors over the suit in the same way, stopping at the waist. He then cut along the waist and peeled the uniform back, leaving it hanging over the stretcher. The legs received much the same treatment, the underneath parts of the suit left hanging while the top sections he removed completely and hefted into the bin.

Despite the warmth of the infirmary, Scott was slightly shivering by the time Virgil had finished, and he knew his brother was likely going into shock as his body caught his brain up with what had happened. Scott might not like the next part, but Virgil couldn’t even temporarily treat his injuries while he was conscious, let alone finish undressing him, and so he reached over to grab the syringe he had prepared.

Scott’s right hand shot out and grabbed Virgil’s wrist. The manoeuvre almost made him pass out, even though it was his uninjured side. Their eyes met, and Virgil sighed. ‘Come on Scott, you know I have to do this. It will be much easier for both of us.’ He let his brother’s hand go, and turned away, the only confirmation Virgil would get to go ahead.

Giving the sedation a moment to work, Virgil called their Grandma. He wanted confirmation that Scott wouldn’t need a hospital after all, some of those fractures were a little worrying, but she had looked the scans over and decided that between them they would manage.

He turned back to Scott, finished removing his arming tunic, and set about binding his injuries as best as possible. Proper care and treatment would be given once they arrived at the island. He then covered his brother with a light blanket and called John to watch over Scott while he flew them home.

Home couldn’t come fast enough.


End file.
